


Dragon Age A/B Prompts.

by saltsoldier



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Fenders, M/M, merribela
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6113926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltsoldier/pseuds/saltsoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some reason I decided responding to some A/B prompts on tumblr would be a GREAT idea even though my writing is subpar. These are just fun, fluffy things I thought would be cute. These are mostly going to be Fenders and Merribela. If you find a prompt you want to see I might have a go if you send it me on tumblr at foolishvessel.tumblr.com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anders/Fenris - Fictional Cats and Sleepy Mages.

“Have you seen my phone?”

Fenris glanced up from his book briefly, keeping his expression steady as he turned the page. Anders was beside him on their shared bed, reaching under the pillows and blankets in search of a phone that he would not find. Fenris steeled himself for the argument that was bound to come as he considered his next words. No matter how he admitted it he was certain that the mage would not like what he had to say next, so he decided that he might as well just come out and just say what he had to say.

“I’ve confiscated it.” He announced bluntly.

The man in the bed next to him sat in stunned silence as his brain struggled to process the information.

“I’m sorry, you what?”

With a heavy sigh Fenris closed the book and put it down, turning to give an increasingly enraged Anders his full attention.

“You’ll get it back in the morning.” He stated simply.

“Is this some kind of joke? It isn’t funny.” the mage fumed. He folded his arms tightly across his chest like a petulant child, fixing his lover with a heated glare. “Give me my phone, Fenris. Now.”

“It’s stopping you from sleeping.” Fenris continued, ignoring the sulking healer beside him.

“Fenris, you don’t understand-“ Anders began, but he was cut off when the man beside him raised his hand.

“I understand perfectly.” The elf insisted.

“I need to refill the frisky bits. Tubbs is always eating everything before the others can get some and I need to see if Snowball has-“

Anders began to ramble and Fenris stopped listening, instead watching as he babbled and ran a hand through his hair the way he did when he was upset or stressed. It was clear that he was truly distressed over the wellbeing of his fictional cats, but his concern for the virtual beasts was only serving to wear at Fenris’ already limited patience. He could feel the anger boiling beneath his skin, bubbling to the surface as he cut the healer off suddenly.

“Fasta vass mage, we have actual cats! You do not need these virtual pets.” Fenris spat as he gestured wildly to the sleeping cat at the foot of their bed, watching the equally pissed off mage bristle and fume before him.

“But-“

“No buts. Go to sleep. You can feed your cats in the morning.” He said firmly. He would not be swayed on this.

For a moment they locked eyes, both almost equal in their stubbornness. Almost. The dark circles framing the amber eyes of the man he loved were the proof that Anders had not been sleeping, the exhaustion he was feeling the straw that finally broke the camel’s back. With a weary and unhappy sigh he lay and turned his back to Fenris, muttering unhappily about petty injustices and broody elves.

A mixture of overworking himself at his clinic and the nightmares that plagued his sleep had been impeding Anders’ rest more than usual lately. The silly cat app (Fenris refused to memorise the name of it no matter how much Anders would prattle on about it) may have been a distraction but it was also stopping the man from getting those few precious hours of sleep he so desperately needed. Fenris hated watching the man he loved working himself into the ground, but he had never been the best when it came to voicing his feelings, his concerns. With a huff he turned to attempt to confess this to the mage beside him only to find that he was already very much asleep.

Fenris simply watched for a moment, appreciating the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as he rested peacefully for what had to be the first time in days. With a fond little smile and eye roll that lacked its typical agitation he reached over and freed the mage’s hair from its signature tie, letting the blond strands fan out on his pillow. He let his fingers weave through it absent mindedly, a happy little humming noise rumbling deep in his throat. For just a moment he allowed himself to sit there contentedly, then he wrapped his arms around the mage, lying with his back pressed to his chest, breathing in the scent of him as he nuzzled against his neck.

“Goodnight, amatus.”


	2. Isabela/Merrill - Umbrella.

“Isabela!”

The pirate turned with a wicked smile. While she was unsure what she did to deserve such a scandalized cry hearing the little elf sound out her name with such dismay was downright _delicious_. She rested her umbrella on her shoulder and tilted her head, drinking in the sight of the smaller woman gaping at her as if she had just burst into flame.

“Yes, Kitten?”

“You’re not supposed to do that!”

She knitted her brows and looked about, trying to puzzle out what offence she had committed. She could think of nothing, which was odd considering that she was almost always guilty of something. Merrill sensed her confusion and pointed accusingly at the open umbrella that was still resting on her shoulder.

“You’re not supposed to open an umbrella indoors, it’s bad luck!” she fumed, her face turning an adorable shade of red.

When Isabela was done appreciating the flush of Merrill’s skin she allowed herself a moment to process the information in stunned silence before bursting into laughter, which only served to fuel Merrill’s frenzy.

“Quick, close it.” Merrill cried, desperation seeping into her voice.

She reached for the umbrella but Isabela was quicker, holding it slightly out of reach, which considering Merrill’s diminutive size was not difficult at all.

“Bela…”

“I know you enjoy it when I’m wet Kitten, but in this instance I’d rather stay dry. What’s the point of going out into the rain and _then_ putting the umbrella up, hmm?”

Merrill’s eyes were as round as saucers as she struggled to come up with a counter argument. Isabela deflated slightly at the sight of Merrill like this, all wide eyed with worry for her. An independent spirit she may be but Isabela secretly enjoyed having somebody fuss over her, even over something as silly and superstitious as opening an umbrella indoors. With a sigh she leaned over and kissed Merrill gently on the nose, her hand resting on the smaller woman’s shoulder. Isabela’s expression changed ever so slightly, the usual wicked gleam in her eye fading to something much softer, a warm and genuine expression usurping her usual bravado.

“It’s fine, Kitten. I promise. Nothing bad will happen because of this, it’s just a silly superstition.”

“But-“

“Trust me on this. Would I ever lie to you?”

Merrill deliberated for a moment, a delicate finger resting on her own lip as she considered the statement. If it were anybody else she may have at least pretended to take offense at such a genuine display of mistrust, but this was Merrill so Isabela just grinned.

“Yes. I think you would.” The tiny elf decided.

The wicked gleam was back and this time when Isabela leaned forward to claim a kiss she went for the lips. She pulled back with a smile and a wink.

“You’re learning, Kitten.”

And with that she turned and walked out into the rain, the umbrella held proudly above her head. As she made her way down the road she could see from the corner of her eye Merrill watching her go. She made an effort to swing her hips for Merrill’s pleasure as she wandered off into the rain, smiling to herself and twirling the umbrella as she went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your OTP live together. Person A is about to go out, but it’s raining, so they open an umbrella. Now Person B is losing their mind because opening an umbrella in the house is bad luck.


	3. Anders/Fenris - Sleepy Mages.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry Anders is rarely concious when I write him.
> 
> Prompt: Okay so I lost this prompt but basically Anders never sleeps where he's supposed to and Fenris is not okay with this.

He’d done it again.

At this point Fenris didn’t know whether to be concerned or genuinely impressed. At least this time he’d made it to a surface that was vaguely comfortable. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d found the mage lying face down at his desk or slumped against a bookcase or lying across his rug only steps away from an actual bed. Once he found him bent awkwardly over a rock on the Wounded Coast, snoring softly as Isabela and Hawke practically pissed themselves laughing. It was only by some kind of miracle that he’d never fallen asleep slumped against one of his patients, although Fenris was certain that’s how he’d find him one day. Maker knows how he managed to find the most uncomfortable surface possible to fall asleep on every damn time. And Anders always accused _him_ of catlike behaviour.

His most recent unconventional nap had taken him to the couch. He was a tangle of limbs, too tall for the loveseat to be in any way comfortable. Fenris sighed bitterly and went about righting the chaotic mess of limbs. He knew this would wake the mage, the man slept so lightly, but it was better than waking up to him complaining about how stiff his neck was in the morning.

As Fenris tucked the healer’s arms into his chest and wrapped his own arm around his shoulders the mage startled in his grasp, fighting it for a moment before realising what was happening, who was holding him. For his part Fenris just kept a firm grip on the man, even sliding his free arm into the crook of the mage’s knees. Anders stared up at him, his amber eyes heavy with sleep but brightening in their confusion.

“Fen, what are you-“ he began, only to abandon the sentence so he could gasp as he was lifted effortlessly off of the couch.

“I’m taking you to bed, mage. An actual bed.” He grumbled, looking down at the man in his arms. “If I remember correctly we have one of those. Not that you ever seem to use it.”

Anders snorted before bringing his head to rest against the elf’s shoulder, letting himself relax as he was carried up the stairs. It always amazed Anders just how strong Fenris was. He was nowhere near as beefy as Hawke was but Anders was certain that he could match their strength if it came down to it. While he may not weigh much when he was out of his coat he was still a large man, much taller than Fenris by a considerable amount. He should struggle to carry him simply due to his sheer size and yet here they were, heading towards the bedroom as Fenris fit him comfortably into his arms.

The mage didn’t make it to the bed, he was already asleep again by the time Fenris got to the top of the stairs. With a huff of annoyance the elf carried him over to the bed and placed him gently down. He took the time to remove his shoes, ignoring the soft, sleeping grunts that came from the human before tucking him under the blankets. He took a step back to admire his handywork, appreciating how peaceful he looked now that he wasn’t on the couch playing at being a contortionist. He gave into the impulse and leaned over, planting a soft kiss to the mage’s brow before slipping into the bed beside him, fitting himself into the crook of the mage’s arms before drifting off into comfortable darkness. One day the mage would find his own way here, but until then Fenris was more than happy to carry him back to bed, not that he would ever admit that to the sleeping man beside him.


	4. Isabela/Merrill - Lemons.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Imagine person A has a cut on their hand and then they spill lemon juice in it. They scream and person B comes running to help.

Merrill didn’t mean to let out a blood curdling scream, honestly. If she was more prepared for the pain she certainly wouldn’t have, after all she received worse wounds in battle, she even cut herself and used her own blood to fight more often than not. No, she was no stranger to pain, this shouldn’t have been such a big deal.

She had been cutting fruit, preparing something different. It wasn’t often she could get her hands on such an array of fresh fruit, especially lemons. It was the lemons that had done it, Dreadwolf take them! She had been slicing them up when a generous amount of their juice found its way into one of the nastier cuts on her hand. She didn’t have much experience with lemons, she wasn’t expecting the sudden stinging pain that overcame her. She let out a sharp cry, much louder than she thought herself capable of, backpedalling away from the offending fruit by instinct and knocking the cutting board to the floor with an almighty crash and a splat as the fruit was squashed underneath it.

Isabela was there in an instant, her hair a mess above her head. She was without her signature blue bandanna and the heavy gold jewellery she always wore, as well as most of her clothes. That didn’t surprise Merrill, this was always how she looked when she was sleeping. No, what the little blood mage found shocking was the wild look in her eyes and the daggers she had clutched in her hands as she scanned the room for the offending party, for the person who had dared to attack her Kitten. Merrill could see the frenzied panic fading into confusion when no such party presented itself.

Merrill was still cursing and cradling her hand when Isabela rushed to her side, concern bleeding into her every movement as she grabbed the smaller woman by the shoulders and looked into her eyes.

“What happened?” she asked, her tone short with worry.

“Oh um, the lemons.” Merrill stated dumbly, a blush creeping into cheeks.

“The… lemons?” Isabela choked out, her face scrunching up in her confusion.

“Yes, they uh, I mean I was cutting them and some got into the cut on my hand,” she explained, gesturing to the wound “It hurt. A lot. I wasn’t expecting it so I screamed and now everything’s on the floor. Oh dear…”

Isabela almost burst out laughing but the way Merrill’s ears drooped at the realization that her meal had been ruined, the way those beautiful green eyes cast themselves downwards as her shoulders slumped was heart wrenching. No living being had the right to make her feel such sympathy, such pain over a handful of fruit. Once again Isabela questioned why she had ever let herself feel such genuine affection for another person before taking Merrill’s hand and kissing her gently where she had hurt herself.

Merrill blushed deeper, her mind absently approving of how gentle Isabela’s lips were in contrast to the sharp pain of the lemon juice. She had never expected gentle from Isabela, the pirate queen was all hot, fiery passion and scathing flirtations. Gentle was not something she had expected but it was something that she found herself being thankful for every day.

“I’m sorry, Vhenan.” She muttered, meeting Isabela’s golden gaze.

The pirate queen took the smaller woman into her arms, holding her tightly.

“Don’t be silly, Kitten. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“But-“

“No buts. Except for your cute one.” Isabela said decisively, her hands wondering to the aforementioned butt.

With that Merrill became uncharacteristically quiet. Isabela pulled away from the elf to get a good look at her. Despite her best efforts it seemed that the Dalish elf remained downtrodden, which felt like a punch to the gut to the rogue. She pulled Merrill closer to her again, hands on her hips and spoke low into her perfectly pointed ear.

“How about you go and work on your mirror and I’ll make us something.” She offered, hoping this would finally cheer up her girlfriend.

Merrill tilted her head at that, looking genuinely surprised.

“You can cook?” she inquired.

“I can try.” Isabela responded. Merrill didn’t look convinced.

“Or I can go out and get something and pretend that I’ve made it.”

“But you’ve just admitted that you are going to buy something. I’ll know.”

Isabela chuckled and moved her hands to Merrill’s shoulders.

“Kitten, let me handle food. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”she demanded, making Merrill blush at the casual compliment. They kissed and finally Merrill smiled.

“Thank you, Vhenan.”

“You’re welcome, kitten.”

**Author's Note:**

> Person B gets addicted to a mobile game and spends nights awake. Person A confiscates person B’s gadgets to make them sleep. Person B sulks, but eventually gives up and falls asleep. Person A sits beside them, watching them in their sleep and smiles, stroking their hair.
> 
> Neko Atsume is addictive and Anders would totally get lost in it for sure.


End file.
